All that crap about time being a great healer is bullshit. Time heals nothing. Well, acne maybe.

Life had become some kind of profound competition, where my emotional loss was substituted by my professional success. I became a part of what they call the rat race.

The mind, at times, takes masochistic delight in suffering.

I put the cup down and gave Neha a hard stare, showing her I was not amused. If I wanted to get insulted by a fat woman over bad food, I would have just flown Air India.

I felt my heart flutter on seeing her. Either I was in love or last night's whisky and finger chips were causing acidity.

Do you want me to tell you the truth?" he asked softly."No I want you to bullshit me please.

All that stuff you read about detectives having microphones, guns, and other fancy gadgets in the drawers, is strictly for the cows. The only action we ever get is killing mosquitoes during an all-night watch. Our preferred choice of weapon is a spray can of mosquito repellent, and a steel flask of whisky.

Why do you want to know?" she asked."No special reason. The Idiot guide to detectives says that you you are supposed to ask questions like that.

What are you worrying about? You are born to die anyway.

Remember, curiosity killed the cat."She was wrong of course. Curiosity could never kill this cat. But yes, a pair of beautiful brown eyes could.